


Freedombringer

by AngelWithAShotgun00



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Does the helmet stay on during sex?, F/M, Grogu is there, Mos Espa, Season 2 is over, Slavery, Slightly angsty Mando, Slow Burn, Tatooine, Trust Issues, compliant ish until chapter 14, no one died, not too angsty he just thinks a lot, the Razor Crest is okay because everything else will be ignored
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:35:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28094760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelWithAShotgun00/pseuds/AngelWithAShotgun00
Summary: The Mandalorian is still trying to find the place where the Child belongs, but after the events of season 2 (minus you know what with the Razor Crest) he decides to make a pit stop in Mos Espa to take a good old-fashioned, normal job. The bounty should be an easy catch, the payment is well enough, and some mindless hunting will surely help him clear his thoughts. But when Din Djarin finally tracks the bounty to its hideout, he realizes a terrible truth.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	1. The Revelation

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, welcome to my newest obsession. 
> 
> Please feel free to leave your feedback in the comments, I'll read and appreciate every single one of them. I study full-time and work part-time so I'm not sure how consistent uploads will be, but I'll try my hardest.
> 
> Relevant for this chapter: ad'ika means little one in Mando'a
> 
> Thanks for reading xx

It had been a long, hard day for the beskar-clad bounty hunter and he wanted nothing more than to stretch out in his sleeping nook, the Child safely in his cot next to him, but he had a feeling this would not happen anytime soon. The bounty was smarter than he thought, _nearly_ untraceable. He had found more important and intelligent people faster than this lots of times. Instead of putting someone into sweet, payment-promising carbonite slumber early on in the day he had crept around the sands of Tatooine for hours until he finally found the bounty. By then he had lost him several times but it was not easy to get rid of a bounty hunter, especially since the Mandalorian prided himself in being one of the best in his trade. When his target arrived at his destination something felt off to the bounty hunter, there were way too many heat signatures around his target.

Din wondered if the smuggler had hired bodyguards, if he knew someone sent a bounty hunter after him. He usually didn’t mind long stake-outs but the desert and heat in the area around Mos Espa were starting to wear him down and he could feel that the sand, that had crept up underneath the plates of his armor, was now uncomfortably rubbing against the cloth layer below his armor. The plan was to keep searching for answers and help for the little one but his ship was in dire need of repairs, so he had decided to land in the port city two days ago. He had found a job almost immediately but he had to admit that something about the city just seemed off, the streets were full of life, yet a little too quiet to be lively.

Now he was on the way back to his trusty Razor Crest, partially to check up on the kid and partially to take a minute to breathe freely and without having to be too weary of his surroundings. He arrived quickly, too lost in his thoughts to pay attention to the walk there. The Crest might not be a beauty, it might have never been one in the first place, but it was his safe space, the one place he could call home after loosing his first one and then the protection of the Mandalorians.

“Ah the things you do for credits…”, he groaned when he sat down in a proper chair for the first time that day. The Child cooed next to him, almost sounding understanding. “I do it so we don’t have to live off of frogs or whatever we can hunt in the wild, although I suppose you wouldn’t mind, would you, kid?” The little one’s ears perked up at the mention of his favorite food and he smacked his lips twice. The Mandalorian let out a small sound of disgust. “Alright kid, let’s get you fed and ready for a nap and then I’ll head back out.”

Bone broth sounded like bacta for his aching muscles and tired mind right now and he was sure the child wouldn’t complain. After he placed the little one on his table, he filled two cups with a dissolved ration pack full of powder and hot water. Greedy green hands were reaching for the smaller cup before it even was completely full. “Clam down, kid. You’ll burn yourself.” The child rewarded him with more exaggerated lip smacking.

Sometimes he wondered why he talked to him like he would answer but the little one had touched a part of his heart he had closed off ever since his parents died. The memories he had left were way too precious to him to be replaced by anything else, but they were fading, and the more he tried to hold on to them, the faster they seemed to slip away. It had been a gradual process for years but once the child had stepped into his life, it had slowly but surely wiggled his way into the Mandalorian’s heart. ‘Not that slowly’, he thought to himself when he remembered the moment he found the pod that had contained the little one. Looking back that was the moment he decided he was unable to give him away, but he had a duty to fulfill. That was the first time he had broken one of his rules in a long time. He made a habit out of not caring for the bounties, bringing them in however the clients wanted them, warm or cold, it usually didn’t matter all that much. The routine of taking a job, tracking the target and delivering them had been so burned into his mind that he didn’t even consider leaving his normal path, he was just going through the motions, but then he took the job that led him to Arvala-7 and the child. For the first time since he started bringing in bounties he had questioned it, he had cared about what happened to his target. It was an unknown feeling, the idea of him haunted it and-

A cup that was slowly shoved into his field of view ripped him out of his train of thought. “Gro...gu”, he said, the name still feeling unfamiliar when it rolled off of his tongue, “do you want more broth?” “Ah”, the little one answered, while shoving the cup even closer to Din’s face, waddling a step towards him on the tabletop. A slight chuckle escaped the man, the foreign sound ringing in his ears for a second. He lifted his cup and poured part of his own broth into Grogu’s cup. The urge to watch over him was strong, but the need to wash off quickly before he went back out into the desert was stronger, so he entered the captain’s quarters and stripped out of his armor, slowly and carefully, fully aware of how much it was worth, not just to him but to his people.

Something deep inside of him urged him not to dwell for too long, getting back to the bounty’s hideout suddenly seemed incredibly important to him. So Din cleaned himself with a quick precision, slipped into new undergarments and put his armor back on. He did however take the time to spare a glance at his uncovered face in the beaten up mirror he owned. It wasn’t a necessity for a Mandalorian to own one, but he was a foundling after all, and his features reminded him of his parents. He was far from willing to ignore the Creed, the Mandalorians had rescued him and he owed them his life, but there were moments, especially now that his memories were fleeting and his parent’s features were becoming blurrier with every day, where he needed to see his face, wanted to show it proudly and carry on his parent’s bloodline, to keep their memory alive.

He snapped back to the present and the urge to continue his mission returned with force. Grogu looked sleepy and when Din lifted him up to put him in his little makeshift hammock and hide him from the world, the child snuggled up to him in a tired haze. “I need to go, _ad’ika_ , but I will be back before you wake.”

He shouldered his rifle and checked his blaster before looking back at the child one last time.

The target was hiding in a lone building further away from the city, it was sand colored and easy to miss but the Mandalorian knew exactly how to spot hideouts. On his way there he tried to clear his mind and focus completely on the mission at hand. There would be time later to think about everything else and if he died, he wouldn’t have to worry about anything anyway. Perks of the job, he supposed. He growled at his constantly straying mind and tried to force his focus back towards the target, this wasn’t helpful at all. Settling in for the night, he decided to unpack his equipment on a small hill that faced the building’s entrance. Just as he zoomed in on the unmoving scene in front of him something started to happen.

A woman ran out of the door, followed by Genosians with blasters. He used his visor to take a closer look and saw shackles and handcuffs dangling from the woman’s limbs. She was trying to flee. Din had heard stories about Mos Espa but it was at that moment that he realized that most of the people in the hideout were not bodyguards, they were slaves.


	2. The Slave

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure you've all finished the season by now, how'd you like it. Like I said this story begins before the events of Chapter 14, means the kid is still okay, so is the crest. I don't know if I will include the events during and post Chapter 14 yet, but I doubt it.  
> Yes Din is a little angsty and questions lots of his life choices but I'm honestly convinced there is a lot of self-doubt hiding under the armor.  
> Thanks for reading guys <3
> 
> See end of chapter for translations of the Mando'a and *spoiler* phrases.

Slaves. _Haar’chak!_ This was not part of the plan. Not at all. He was prepared for a gunfight, not for a rescue mission. In a haste, he considered all of the possible ways this could end, but none of them seemed to entail all of the slaves making it out alive. Din was by no means a man of the people, he liked to get paid for a job well done because the endless gratefulness of a couple of wasteland farmers hadn’t done much for him so far, at least not as much as credits. He was, however, a strong believer in trusting his gut feeling. That’s why he went back for the kid and that worked out pretty alright, aside from minor hiccups like the rest of the Imps being on the lookout for them. Said gut feeling was telling him not to go in like a raging Mudhorn, clan symbol be damned, and accept casualties easily.

Maybe it would be enough for now to just reach the woman that was currently running for her life, he was sure she would have some form of intel for him. Through her information and proper preparation he might be able to get others slaves out before anything worse happened to them. Before the child, the idea of leaving them behind wouldn’t have bothered him as much as it did now and that worried him.

With a heavy sign Din aimed his rifle at one of the Genosians, a nasty looking flying curiosity. They were usually unwilling to separate from their hives, which led him to the conclusion that they could have been cast out. He corrected his aim one last time and fired. Reload. Fire again. And again. This was what he was good at, mindless killing, no questions asked. It kept him fed and, in a twisted way, it kept him sane. Din could see the woman flinch with every shot he took, he was just glad she wasn’t running away and obscuring his sight. He supposed she had to be not entirely dumb if she was able to get this far during her escape attempt.

After the last Genosian fell into the sand, Din decided to show himself to the woman, who was jerking her head around towards the general direction of him, trying to get a good look at her rescuer. The second the prisoner saw the light reflect from his beskar helmet, she started to run off. He was still too far away to call out to her, to let her know that she would be safer with him. Dank Farrik, this day just did not want to be kind to him. There was no way he could reach her fast enough by foot, so he decided to use his jetpack, a rare occasion, since he wanted to save it for important objectives or hard to reach locations only. He landed, still slightly unsteady and inexperienced, right in front the slave. Most of her body was covered by torn cloth, the couple of strips of skin he could see seemed to have been uncovered during her struggle. She tried to run even faster while changing directions, her labored breathing was even picked up by the sound filters in his helmet, which told him it had to be incredibly loud, since his helmet usually blocked out most faint noises.

“ **HEY.** ”, he yelled. She flinched but did not slow down. The uneven surface of the sand made her stumble, but she did not seem willing to give up on her escape easily. “ **STOP.** ”, his voice roared. He wasn’t sure if it was the intensity he put into his exclamation or if she felt reminded of the environment she had just tried to escape but the woman came to a halt. Din caught up with her, careful not to touch her he stepped around her. He expected more resistance from her. What he didn’t expect, on the other hand, was her lifting up a shaky hand to pull on the wrap that covered her mouth. She drew her head back and spit at him.

_“bu shuree tȃsi chu holler Nandalorian!“_ She was speaking Zabraki.

„Listen, do you understand me?“, he asked in Basic.

„I‘m not dumb, bounty hunter.“, she retorted.

„That‘s not what I was implying. I‘m not here for you.“

_„You tell me you aren‘t here for an unimportant slave with no name. My, what a surprise.“_

Her entire demeanor had changed, while she still seemed cautious and wary, her posture went from fearfully hunched over to rigid and almost snarky.

“Wh- Right, this is unimportant right now. My bounty is in there, and since you just planned your great escape, you’re welcome by the way-”, he started.

_“I would have been_ fine _without your intervention, metal man.”_ , the woman interjected.

“You would have been _dead_ without my intervention. Free of charge.”, Din huffed. The nerve of some people.

_“Ha. Nothing ever is.”_

“Smart girl. I need you to tell me everything you know about these people, who was in there with you? How many slave holders?”

_“Listen, Mandalorian. I want something in exchange.”_

“I just saved your life, what else could you want.”, he growled. He was not in the mood to bargain with her.

_“I’ll tell you after you have freed the others.”_ , she offered. Except it wasn’t an offer, it was a badly hidden demand. He was already considering to save the others anyway, but she didn’t have to know that.

“This isn’t how this works, who do you even think you are, trying to command my actions?”, his frustration was now clearly seeping through the voice filter.

_“I am no one, but my information is valuable to you. Only a fool would not make demands in such a situation.”_

Damn his kriffing kindness, he had no energy for negotiations.

“Tell you what, it’s been a long day. I just want to collect my bounty. Come back to my ship, I’m sure I have something to eat for you and you can take a shower or sleep while I reload and re-calibrate my weapons. Then you can tell me everything you know and I’ll grab this son of a bantha dung pile and by tomorrow I’ll be gone from this dustball.”

The woman considered this proposal for a long moment before nodding slowly. They made their way back to the _Crest_ in silence. It was an agonizingly slow journey, the woman was limping along slowly and the Mandalorian was getting tired of being exposed in the middle of the desert. They most likely had a target on their back already, no need to make it easy to their pursuers.

“Listen, I see that you are hurt, but this is putting us at risk.”, Din spoke up after a while.

_“What do you want me to do, conjure a speeder bike?”_

He knew she wasn't a bounty but it was refeshing none the less to have someone talk back to him instead of shivering in fear or shooting at him.

“Come here.”, he put no emphasis on the words but she must have known that he wasn't asking. He could tell by the way she halted in her steps, her reaction so spontaneous that she flinched a little in pain right after.

_“What? No I-”_ , the woman began to protest

“Let me carry you.” A simple statement yet again, still they both knew she couldn't say no. Which didn't mean she wouldn't try.

_“I’m_ fine _.”_

“I wasn’t asking. They will no longer just aim at you when they find us.”

He stepped towards her and cradled her up in his arms, she struggled at first but decided to settle down instead of making the situation worse, potentially out of pain or sheer exhaustion.

“Grab my neck.”

This time she complied with less hesitation, her hands, the only part of her body not deliberately covered in cloth, wrapped around his scarfed neck.

“The ride could be a little bumpy”, he warned, before shifting her in his arms so he could reach the controls for his jetpack.

It was a lot bumpier than he expected, the weight distribution messed with his accuracy and he was hardly able to see. More than once, they struggled in midair. Finally, he saw the dunes approaching that hid the Razor Crest from the curious eyes of the desert dwellers. They just needed to get a little higher to pass. Shortly before they hit the right altitude the jetpack made a gurgling noise and they dropped a good bid in height.

“By the Gods, hold on just a second, come on you kriffin-”

Din’s shoulders went rigid. His neck cover must have slipped during their short drop, maybe the slave had tried to grab onto it. Her hand was now rested on his bare neck. He did not know if she noticed or if she even knew that this was not supposed to happen. The cool touch sent shivers down his spine and ignited sparks around the area her warm hands at the same time, he shook his head slightly to clear his mind. What an odd sensation.

_“Are we gonna make it?”_ , the woman in his arms asked.

He cleared his throat. “I’m – not sure. It’s not far, we should probably land. Will you be okay to walk for the last bit?”

She breathed in deeply, a strange look passing her face for a second, before nodding. Din landed as softly as possible, his jetpack sputtering slightly. The climb up was short, yet it seemed to exhaust his travel companion massively.

“Let’s just slide down. It’ll be easier on you.”

She nodded, but already pulled a face while she motioned to sit down.

“I could hold you again, if that helps.”

Saying that already made him feel stupid but her next comment did not help.

_“Are you taking advantage of this, buckethead?”_

Din huffed. “Suit yourself. See you down there.”

_“No that’s not…”_ , she made a frustrated sound,” _…yes, I’d appreciate the help.”_

He lifted her up into his arms again and knelt down, with her tucked close he proceeded to slide down the dune, his armor gliding over the sand easily. Getting up with her in his arms would be a struggle but she did not have to know that. When they reached the Razor Crest he set her feet back on the ground and stepped back just a bit too fast.

“You should let me look at your wounds, I have a few spare bacta packs lying around.”, he offered.

He did not expect her to answer a firm _“I’d prefer your med droid to do it.”_ but he still hadn’t recovered from the odd sensation of her touch. For the first time in his life, Din wished he had a droid on board.

“My- sorry, I don’t do droids. Especially not on my ship.”

He furrowed his brows when the reason why he didn’t shoved itself back into his mind. Sometimes he wondered what his life would look like if they had never attacked his home. There was no use in dwelling on it though, he was good at what he did. He _liked_ what he did.

Din was so engulfed in his train of thought that he almost didn’t register the rapid movement next to him as his temporary companion collapsed onto the floor.

“Hey! Wake up!”, Din yelled, kneeling down next to her. Her breathing was almost too flat to see, but Din would be damned if his only lead died on him right then and there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haar’chak! (damn it in Mando'a)  
> "bu shuree tȃsi chu holler Nandalorian!“ (leave me alone you filthy Mandalorian in Zabraki; coruscant translator)


	3. The Discovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> translations at the bottom as always, thanks for being here

He shook her several times, the movement becoming more and more violent with each desperate attempt to wake her up again. “Come on, _come on_ !”, he mumbled with an increasing urgency. Din was not sure why it was so important to him that the woman in front of him survived, it was not like he really needed her information to finish the job, sure it would be easier with her help but he would be fine without it, too. An ugly little voice in the back of his head whispered “It’s because she touched you. Because of how it felt when she did.” He pushed the thoughts away with all the strength he could muster up, a sudden fatigue was taking over his body but he knew that all his focus was needed elsewhere. “ Don’t be a _di’kut_.”, he growled at himself.

He blindly reached for the controls on his arm to lower the ramp, never taking his eyes off of the almost lifeless form in front of him. Din knelt down into the sand next to her and slung one arm around the back of her legs and the other around her neck. The sand crept behind the plates of his armor when he got up. Maker, he hated desert planets and their sand.

He lifted her carefully and moved in and through the hull of the _Crest_ swiftly intent on minimally disturbing her at best but it still seemed almost impossible to do without hurting her or himself in the narrow hallways of the ship. Din heard a slight babbling noise from below him. “Hey kid I normally wouldn’t ask you to but if you could help me lift a little I’ll let you keep the steering knob for the night.” The attempt at a bribe was followed by a small huff of concentration but the weight of the woman on his shoulder did not decrease yet. “I’ll catch you some frogs. Get you a stuffed mudhorn toy.” Finally the weight on his shoulder lifted and Din helped Grogu to carefully guide their guest into his sleeping quarters, making sure she did not hit anything while the child steered her limp body. Upon arrival in the room the weight hit his shoulder again with a thud and next to him the child sank to his knees. It took a little effort but with the woman securely positioned on his shoulder, Din managed to scoop Grogu up in his other arm and put him down it the small hammock above his own sleeping place.

His cot wasn’t comfortable by any means, his pillow was flat and worn out, the wool blanket he slept under was scratchy and torn in more than one place and the mattress was nothing but a thicker wool layer. It was a place for quick resting not for relaxation to him. Relaxing on a job like his was dangerous and he traveled alone so he could not afford to grant himself some down time other than a light slumber for an hour or two at a time in hyperspace. Regardless, it was the most comfort Din was able to offer her on his ship. He put her down softly on top of the blanket and lifted his hands up to unfasten his cloak to cover her up to the best of his abilities.

A quick glance at them made him notice that they were glistening. Din inhaled sharply, she must have been bleeding for a while and he had almost missed it completely. At least he knew what was wrong with her now. Hastily he scrambled for his medkit. After a bounty a couple of jobs ago had left a deep gash in his leg, which he had had to stuff with gauze and bacta, his supplies were running dangerously low. He took his gloves off first, threw them down next to himself and decided that, since she was unconscious, it would be fine to take his helmet off, necessary even to see better. The helmet was wonderful for hunting but Din preferred to do the finer things that needed precision without it, if possible. Before he started to patch her up he rubbed his hand down his face, exhaustion seeping even deeper into his bones. How was it that he had started attracting foundlings that depended on him?

Slowly, his hands trembling slightly, he started to unwrap the beige colored scraps that covered her right arm. Din’s jaw dropped when he saw the deep, frayed scars that covered it. Some of them looked like they were several years old and some looked fresh still. They were bulky and long in places, round in others. They had put cigarette buds out on her. He felt bile rising up in his throat. Bounty hunting was his profession, some would call him an overpriced murderer. The things he had seen, had done, were horrible but they left him cold. Almost all of his bounties had deserved him coming after them and well, the one that didn’t was currently sleeping in his hammock. Din was certain the woman in front of him had not done anything that warranted this barbaric form of punishment. Against his hopes, her other arm did not look any better. He wasn’t sure what to expect when he rolled her over to uncover her back but he knew the drenched beige fabric, which had turned brown and red in places, and the sloppily carved, bloody letters he found after pulling it off softly were not it. “h'sletret kasluat” was what he could make out. He knew it was Zabraki, the language she had spoken in before, but he had no idea what it meant. Most likely a profanity marking her frail form forever. The men, if you wanted to call them that, he had killed had been Genoisians though and he didn’t really ascribe them the brain capacity to speak Zabraki or write in general. _So who did this to her?_

Din washed and sterilized the wounds carefully and slowly and dressed them. He also cleaned and wrapped her arms back up. The way she held herself earlier was with pride, regardless of what had happened to her, and he didn’t want to intrude more than it was necessary. Her breathing was getting steadier and louder already, the bacta must have started to work. She flinched a little and Din quickly grabbed his helmet to cover himself up again.

He fought the urge to sit down and watch over Grogu and the woman until they woke up and decided to clean and prepare his weapons instead. It was almost like therapy to him to disassemble and clean them part by part, put them back together slowly and precisely. If need be, he could do it in under a minute but he enjoyed thinking about the anatomy of his weapons. It reminded him of the early days after the Watch had picked him up. Din had been too disturbed by the loss of his parents to snap out of his catatonic state and one of the older Mandalorians had taken his time every night to sit down in front of him, take out his blaster and slowly disassemble it while talking softly and continuously to Din. His hand motions had been steady and certain, he had radiated calmness, the topics had been nonsensical yet Din had become invested them moment the older man had opened his mouth. It helped him get out of his shell and cope with the way his family had been ripped apart by the droid army. To this day, cleaning his weapons this way made him feel connected to the memory and helped him calm down.

The relaxation this task gave him was short lived however, a long scream followed by wailing ripped him out of his thoughts. It came from his cot. Din moved before he had fully processed the sounds. When he arrived in the room he took in the scene. Grogu was still in his hammock, crying loudly and staring wide-eyed at the woman underneath him. Din’s eyes followed the child’s line of sight. She was still asleep, covered in a thin layer of sweat, her headscarf and the fabric covering her mouth had slipped off to reveal dark braided hair matted by dirt and sweat. Her lashes were long and almost touched her cheeks while her eyes were closed. She had almost aristocratic features, high cheekbones and a slim, slightly upturned nose. Her lips were full and he thought she must look beautiful smiling but right now her lips were pulled down, mouth slightly agape as she cried in her dream.

He strode over and lifted the child out of his makeshift bed, setting him down outside to keep him from potential harm. Din patted his head once before locking the door from the inside. He sat down next to her. “Hey, I need you to wake up for me.”, he said softly and put his hand on her shoulder. Her eyes flew open and searched the room hastily before they landed on him. She flinched away and made herself as small as possible on his bed. “No master, it’s not my fault this time!” The broken look she gave him opened up a deep pit in his stomach. “It’s over, _kotep dala_. You’re safe with me now. I guarantee you that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> di’kut (idiot in Mando'a)  
> h'sletret kasluat (little whore in Zabraki)  
> kotep dala (brave woman in Mando'a)
> 
> Hey guys, finals are creeping up on me but I'm trying my hardest to write in my (very short) free time. I was thinking... after I've finished this, would you be interested in the same story from her perspective (I don't want to start just yet, especially if there isn't much interest because that would mean 2 WIPs)  
> Also I swear to the Heavens it makes sense that she reacts the way she does...  
> Anywho, thank you so much for reading it, hope you enjoy it.


	4. The Tracker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din dwells on the past and finds out who is behind the slave trade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi,  
> I missed writing but uni and work life is crazyyy. Here's a chapter I sat on for way too long and I'm still not at the fight scene I wanted to write like 2 chapters ago. whoops.  
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading, comments are always appreciated, have a nice day and stay safe xx

She had seemed to calm down over the last hour or so while Din quietly sat near her, far enough to not make her feel threatened by his presence but still close enough to be able to intervene should she faint again. Calling her _kotep dala_ had just felt right in the moment and Din decided he would stick with it until he was told otherwise. He took her in under the protection of his helmet, she was sitting upright and stiff on his bed, the mattress barely dipping under her fragile looking frame, looking guarded and ready for a fight if she had to be. She seemed to cautiously survey the room, searching for possible exits in case she needed them. It reminded him of his early years in training, how skittish the constant prospect of danger had made him back then.

Most people didn’t work well with the idea of constantly having to look over their shoulder, it unsettled them and made them more vulnerable and prone to mistakes in the end. Din however, had survived long enough to keep calm in these situations, he knew exactly what to look out for. The woman in front of him didn’t but he could sense she was trying her best. He had been engulfed in his own thoughts but now that his focus had shifted back to his guest he noticed how awkward the silence that dragged on had become. He cleared his throat quietly. “If you want to run, I won’t keep you from doing so.”, he said, trying to make it sound casual, “However, you’ll probably like the guys out there even less than me.” She froze, knowing she had been caught surveying the room for the possible exits. “I think I have some caf packs and dehydrated ration packs if you care for a meal.”, he continued on, not wanting the silence to settle between them again. Her gaze shifted towards him but she seemed to look through instead of at him for a moment before her eyes adjusted. She blinked slowly and murmured “I don’t need anything.” Her hands were tugging at her arm wraps restlessly, constantly readjusting them, while she shrank into his cot.

Grogu, who had fallen asleep after Din had sat down to calm the woman, was slowly waking up again. Din saw one of his big green ears peeking out of the hammock that hung from the ceiling above his bed. He was not sure if their guest had already seen or even noticed him. Before he was able to introduce them, however, the child had already tumbled out of his hammock while leaning to far out of it in curiosity over their guest and fallen into the woman’s lap. She let out a short yelp before registering what had landed on her. “You… have a baby with you?”, she questioned, picking Grogu up and setting him down properly on her knee. “He’s my foundling.”, Din answered. “Oh…”, she whispered softly, “he’s very cute.” Grogu stared up at her through his gigantic dark eyes, babbling softly. “Be careful, he’s a sneaky little bastard with fast grabby hands. Watch your food and anything shiny you have.” The affection in his voice was audible.

She looked up at him, her eyes were clouded by fear but her voice was steady when she spoke.

“You’re not like him.”

“I’m not like who?”

“The other Mandalorian, the one in the hide-out.”

“A Mandalorian is doing this to your people?”, Din tried to keep his voice normal in an attempt not to frighten the woman in front of him but he failed and it shook with anger. The Mandalorians were not exactly the most peace loving kin, killing and bounty hunting was seen as a good and honorable profession among them but their targets were deserving of their punishment and lacked honor. No Mandalorian he knew would hurt the innocent, they treated those in need with compassion, like they had once treated him. He adverted his gaze, feeling something akin to shame after hearing that someone who wore armor similar to the one Din prided himself in never taking off did this to people and stood up slowly.

“You need to eat something, no arguing.”, he commanded, still in a soft tone to avoid frightening her. Din moved over to the tiny makeshift kitchen in the Crest and started the water kettle that had to be almost as old as his trusty ship. Who was he kidding, kitchen was definitely the wrong word for the hot plate he put on a small cabinet in a nook next to the water supply of the hull. He had to keep his hands busy, he wanted to punch something. The idea of one of his kind doing something so horrible to innocent people made his blood boil. “I think I have an old flightsuit of mine somewhere if you want to wear something a little warmer. It’s chilly in here, I can’t stand the desert” Her gaze shifted from the green bundle in her lap back to him and she cleared her throat, “I think –- that would be nice” and after a pause she added “thank you.”

He retreated into his sleeping nook and handed the worn out piece of duracloth to her after returning. “The refresher is right here if you want to use it”, he said while pointing at the door that lead to the small sanitary area. She got up slowly, against all her effort pain flickered across her face as she did so. Din stared after her, hidden behind the safety of his helmet and wondered what she had had to endure in her life and what would happen to her after his mission on Tatooine was over. “Not your problem”, he reminded himself sternly and tore his gaze away from the steel door she had vanished behind.

Wanting to take his mind off of things he decided to quickly scan the area around the Crest. He already knew the companions of the Genosians he had kill were looking for him and the woman and that it was only a matter of time until they would spot the _Crest_ from afar and group up to attack. He needed the element of surprise on his side. The ship’s scanners did not indicate the presence of any big enough life forms in close proximity, but as much as Din loved the _Crest,_ it was not exactly equipped with the newest technology in the galaxy. Therefore he decided to step out of the hull and additionally scan there area with the sensors in his helmet. Thank the Maker that he did because at the very limit of the _Crest_ ’s reach, there was a lone Genosian lingering around and only a single high dune was keeping him from spotting the ship. There was nothing else on the sensors so he walked off the ship’s ramp, careful to close it behind himself. He was going to end this quickly, before the woman on board even stepped out of the refresher.

Din used the Phoenix to land slightly below the peak of the dune, climbing the rest by foot. The sand made it hard for him to stay quiet and agile, but he managed. The Genosian had his back turned to him when he finally laid eyes on him, he was most likely ready to give up on the search for the day. However, they had gotten too close and Din wanted to make sure that he and his temporary companion had time to ready themselves for an attack. In a swift motion Din stepped up behind the Genosian and snapped his neck before he could even react. The limp body fell to the floor and Din, halfway in the motion to turn away again, saw a tracker blinking at the dead man’s hip.

“Dank farrik, she’s chipped.”, he muttered to himself. This trip just didn’t want to stop spiraling into more and more bantha dung. Just as this thought passed his mind, the corpse’s wrist started making crackling noises. Well, not exactly. The comlink on it did. Din picked it up, it might be an advantage, if they came close enough to the ship to be in reach he could at least hear them from afar. He also decided that he did not want the body to get found easily, so he lifted the limp Genosian off of the sand and dragged him away. Pushing him off another dune should do it. Why was there never a Sarlacc pit around when you actually needed it? After rolling the Genosian off of a dune, making sure he had taken anything that could be of use off of him, Din decided to return to the ship, he had been gone for too long anyway.

The trackers blinking increased rapidly as he got closer to his ship, proving his initial thought right. They were tracking the woman. He opened the ramp with a touch to his wrist and swiftly closed it after stepping into the hull. Din was not sure if he could take another surprise right now. Quietness filled the inside of the ship, the refresher door was open so the woman must have finished her shower, yet there was no sight of her. The Child’s babbling was nowhere to hear either. Din swallowed. Had he been gone for too long and someone had found the ship in his short absence? That was impossible.

“Kid?”, he called out lowly, “Kid where are you?” At the sound of his voice the curtain covering the nook his cot was in moved slightly, revealing a frightened looking woman cradling the Child close to her chest. “Hey, it’s alright. It’s just me.”, Din said, trying to keep his voice free from the initial panic he had felt. He sat down in front of the nook, trying to seem as unintimidating as possible. “Listen I have some news, I went outside to scan the area and it looks like they are close to finding us here. I found and killed a Genosian but I’m certain that was not the last of them.” He paused and looked at her. “He had a tracker on him, I brought it with me and I’m guessing they implanted a tracking device in you.” He lifted the device from his belt to prove his suspicion. It was blinking rapidly in an angry red. “We need to cut it out. I can do it as soon as you’re ready for it.”, he informed her.

She blinked twice, slowly putting Grogu down next to her. “I need a blade.”, was the only thing she said. Her voice sounded hoarse, he wasn’t sure if it was from a lack of use or if she had screamed her throat raw before her escape. “I’d rather take it out, I’ve done this before”, the Mandalorian replied. “No!” He answer was fast and determined and Din did not want to push her. “That’s alright.”, he said, pulling his knife out of his boot. He handed it to her together with the tracking device. “You need to slide it over yourself and find out where they put it.” She nodded and shifted on the bed but made no move to fully get up. “I need…”, she started. He realized she could not get out because he was sitting in the way. He was a _di’_ _kut_.

He shifted off the floor and made as much room as possible to let her through. She walked past him and as she retreated Din noticed that she must have made some alterations to his flight suit while he was gone. She had tied part of her wraps around the waist, cinching it and making the suit hug her body. It looked good on her, he caught himself thinking, like it belonged on her. She stared at the spot where she had last been in the field of his vision for longer than he would like to admit before the sound of the Child’s soft coos tore his gaze away. Somehow this kept happening to him.

“What’s up, womprat?”, Din asked. Grogu motioned a little claw over his stomach. At least that is where Din assumed his stomach was, who knew. Grogu lifted his arms up towards Din and made a small noise. “Yeah buddy, I know, Tatooine is not great for your food preferences. Let’s see what I can make you.” He lifted the small green creature and placed him on his hip, carrying him to the makeshift kitchen. “I can hydrate you some instabroth. That sound good?” The Child made a happy cooing noise. He could sense the woman as soon as she came back in but she just stood still, watching him.

Din waited for a moment to address her, her gaze was boring into his back and it made his skin prickle. Nothing, she said nothing, just kept staring. “Can I help you?”, he asked without turning around. “I got it out. Sorry you just reminded me of something.”, she answered hastily. “Give it to me.”, he said reaching out the hand that was not holding Grogu. “What?” “The tracker. Give me the tracker.” “Oh. Of course, here.” She gingerly lifted her arm, dropping the little device into Din’s outstretched palm. Din inclined his head slightly and threw the tracker on the floor to step on it with his boot. “This doesn’t mean we’re safe. They are close to finding you, finding us. We have to get to them first so they don’t overrun us with sheer manpower.” The woman, as exhausted as she must be, straightened her back, squared up her shoulders and said “Hand me a weapon and let me know what I can do to get these sons of mudscuffers.”


End file.
